Parasites, Plots & Plans
by Eden Evergreen
Summary: A huge crater - large enough to be considered a hole - appeared in the fifth moon. 'Tis known that Knives sent one person looking for his missing brother. Two years later, he had not yet been found. What else might Knives have done? One possibility is offered in this tale.
1. Preparations

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 _This tale is dedicated to "One Percent," who suggested the idea. :)_

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 _ **Note**_ _: I do not own Vash "the Stampede," Millions Knives, Legato Bluesummers, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Zazie the Beast, Milly Thompson, Meryl Stryfe, etc.: they all belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow._

 _ **Spoiler alert**_ _: If you have not seen or read at least enough of Trigun to know what happened to the fifth moon. The events in this tale would occur slightly before Vash reappeared / was pried loose from where he'd been hiding for slightly over two years, following the Fifth Moon incident._

 _Most details (including calendar dates) lean more toward manga than anime._

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 **Parasites, Plots and Plans**

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 **Chapter 1: Preparations**

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 _2521 AD, month 12 day 20, early morning_

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Humans.

They had to be the worst, most degenerate and destructive parasites ever to infest the universe. They were a pestilence. Humans reminded him of articles he had read in the ships' computers, which described the behaviors and effects of large swarms of locusts. Everything they touched was devoured, trampled, or otherwise laid waste.

Knives turned from the window, where he'd been contemplating the setting fifth moon (with its newest and largest crater) in the light of the rising suns. He was impatient for Legato to bring Zazie and Midvalley.

Both of his requested henchmen were currently stationed at this base, not far from the city of December. So it should not have taken them this long to appear before him. In fact, they seemed abominably slow about arriving in response to his summons.

They should show him more respect.

Although...

Perhaps Zazie was awaiting reports from its servant insects. At least it wasn't human.

Knives began pacing impatiently, while his thoughts drifted toward very familiar frustrations.

Humans had not adequately limited their own reproduction back on their home world. As a result, they eventually began to feel so crowded that they wished to disperse. And so, largely by abusing Plants, they had successfully spread their destructive "seeds" onto this world. As if one world burdened by their despicable kind wasn't bad enough!

Knives paused in his pacing and made a rude gesture, along with an inarticulate sound of disgust. Again, it crossed his mind to wonder: how many _other_ worlds were humans consuming, even now? And how many Plants?

He resumed pacing restlessly, with his fists clenched, as he vented internally. His boot-soles made soft sounds that only his Plant-sensitive hearing could detect. Inferior beings, such as his human slaves, could not hear his steps. That simple fact had served him well on multiple occasions.

He turned on one heel, to continue pacing in the opposite direction as his thoughts traveled farther along well-worn paths.

Humans rarely, if ever, controlled themselves. That was one of their worst faults. They had not limited their use of Plants to a level that merely kept the Plants occupied sufficiently to alleviate boredom. They had not even limited themselves enough to keep the Plants healthy. Instead, they drained his kind dry, causing premature deaths and needlessly limited lives. How could Plant-kind ever reach their full potential, while being abused thus? He could never forgive such sins, even if he had wished to do so.

Worst of all, humans had come between him and his brother.

He paused by a window, and glared out though it at the brightening sky. His thoughts formed a name and face he knew nearly as well as he knew Vash's, or his own.

Rem.

It was all her fault!

Knives turned away from the window, and resumed pacing.

Rem hadn't been flawed in the same manner as most of her worthless species. Instead, her flaws were sentiment and unreasonably idealistic daydreams. She had imagined that her species could rise above its base, parasitic nature and become something better.

She had tried to behave better than what she was. She had even achieved a measure of success in that effort. By so doing, she had made both of them believe in her people... at least, temporarily... while they were too young to know any better. By misrepresenting humans as better than they were, she had deceived them.

Rem had seemed kind. However, to his manner of thinking, it seemed more logical to assume she was motivated by other impulses than compassion. She... may not have been quite as severely stupid as most of her kind. She might have realized that Plants had the intelligence and capabilities necessary to remove her abhorrent species from the universe. She had even admitted that humanity wished to survive.

He still suspected that Rem was mostly attempting to distract them from what her people had done to Plants, when she took the time and trouble to raise his brother and himself. She had probably hoped to lull them enough that he and Vash would not do exactly what he intended to do: destroy her species entirely.

It was a clever ruse, Knives grudgingly acknowledged. It was a shame that he could not compel her to confess this...

He felt himself tense, from his scalp to his toes, as he thought: Rem's ruse is _still_ fooling Vash.

The empty place at his side, where he felt Vash belonged, hurt like an open wound.

He closed his eyes, and searched within himself for that faint sense of Vash's living presence. It was there, but it was far too weak for him to distinguish a location. No matter how intensely he concentrated, he could not detect any emotional echoes from his brother. There could be only one conclusion drawn from these facts: Vash was deliberately hiding himself, body and soul.

That had never happened before. Not like this, not for two full years.

Twice, he'd set off Vash's body and demonstrated what power Plants have. Both times, his annoying brother had run away. The fool still wanted (and tried) to become an embodiment of _Rem's_ ideals. She had only been the first human to come between them. Unfortunately, she was not the last.

His fingertips tingled with the heat of Plant energy, partly fueled by his frustrated rage, as his thoughts and pacing continued.

What would it take to make Vash see the facts of the universe as he did? Didn't his idiotic brother understand that humans were _not_ a benevolent species, as Rem had pretended to be? Was Vash so blinded by that foolishly sentimental woman's words that he failed to see the evidence before his own eyes - and on his own body?

The sight of Vash's scars, prior to the destruction of the city of July, had both pained and angered him. It had also sickened him. For humans to do such things to a Plant, any Plant, was bad enough. For it to be done to a free-walking Plant, his _twin_ , who was practically a part of himself...

The heat was spreading from his fingertips, through his hands, and into his wrists.

Vash could have destroyed those humans _before_ they damaged him. Or else he could at least have used his Plant energy to restore his body. But he did neither.

Worse, prior to the blast which had carved that huge crater in the fifth moon two years ago, Vash had acquired noticeably _more_ scars. At that point, it had only been six years since the city of July had been destroyed! Why was he allowing them to _do_ this to him?

That, too, must be a result of Rem's meddling. It seemed almost as if his brother were trying to live like a _human_! Of all the ridiculous, idiotic, _stupid_ things to do...

Another inarticulate sound of disgust escaped him.

If Rem were alive and within his reach, then he would kill her without hesitation. _She_ did this to his brother! _She_ had twisted his thoughts, emotions and behavior...

Knives felt the familiar heat grow into a burning sensation. That burning heat had already spread through his hands and arms: more strongly in his left arm, but present also in his right. He felt changes begin as the burning spread between his shoulders. The substance of his arms shifted, extending into blades of bone on his left arm. Those blades had such sharp edges that they would put any razor to shame.

It was severely tempting to allow a full transformation to happen, and to go to a town somewhere and destroy every human in sight. Such an amazing feeling of release came when he allowed it to happen. All reason and consciousness would be gone, when he loosened the restraints and allowed his destructive capabilities to have free reign.*

But he could not give orders to his slaves if he were elsewhere killing humans. He could not learn what he wanted to know if he were elsewhere, and thus not here to learn it.

He would go kill humans soon, he promised himself. Not today, but soon.

Reluctantly, he forced himself to stop the transformation and begin reversing it.

He was briefly distracted when he recalled that Vash (and, in fact, most bulb-dwelling Plants) sprouted feathers instead of blades. His mouth twisted in a wry smirk, as he thought how his body was superior even to that of other Plants. The half-finished transformation slowly reversed itself, and the incompletely formed blades gradually retracted back into his arm. The flesh on his arms (and even the substance of his sleeves), which had been converted into energy and drawn into the transformation, was restored to its original state as that transformation reversed.

Knives suddenly realized that he'd been clenching his fists. In fact, his fists were clenched so hard that he felt his fingernails cutting into the skin of his palms... deep enough to draw blood. With an effort, he unclenched his fists. He could just hear the distant footfalls of his slaves in the hallway as they approached.

He concentrated briefly, and caused his Plant energy to restore the flesh in his palms.

In a few hours, there would be no external trace of his brief, almost sentimental lapse. His body would again be as perfectly immaculate as his mind. For the moment, however, small crescent-shaped scars (in the vivid pink of a recently healed injury) could be seen on his palms.

He grimaced. He walked to where his gloves were stored, chose a pair, and put them on.

He must never allow himself to appear weak before any of those vastly inferior beings.

They had barely enough mental capacity to comprehend and obey his instructions. He must always show himself firmly in command, lest some unsubmissive thought should enter their feeble minds. He had no wish to share in Tessla's fate.

Or, nearly as bad... if they thought they detected any sign of weakness in him, word of it might spread until it reached Vash. Until his brother was convinced to see things the same as he did, no sign of weakness should ever be shown.

At least they, and the others Legato had chosen, knew enough to speak respectfully and to keep their distance. It didn't stop him from being disgusted by their presence, but it did help to reduce the nausea.

To his nostrils, humans stank. It didn't help that summer heat was gaining strength, here in the southern hemisphere of this desert planet. He had to move between bases somewhat regularly, because the stench of humanity would inundate the air filtration units. He could have no olfactory peace until after the units had all been scoured clean of that stench. It was nearly time to leave this base, again, for that reason.

Properly trained humans could be useful, at times, by tending to the irritating business of going among their own kind. Currently, there was a need to interact with another human if he wished to learn... Knives turned his thoughts away from that unpleasant necessity for the moment. He would deal with it when he must.

He walked to a thickly cushioned bench on the opposite side of the room from the door. That bench had been placed near an air circulation vent, which blew filtered air into the room. This arrangement helped to blow away enough of the human scent that it usually did not become too near to overpowering. He sat on the bench, and then deliberately assumed a relaxed pose. He took control of his body, and calmed his breathing and heart rate. He did not want to inhale any more human scent than necessary.

A tap on the door was immediately followed by Legato's voice.

"Master," he said softly.

"Enter," Knives said neutrally.

"I have brought the two you requested," Legato announced.

The cocoon-like case surrounding his body was deftly handled by Legato's thrall. Legato bowed his head as deeply as possible, within the confines of that case.

Perhaps I shouldn't have broken Legato's neck, Knives mused silently. He realized that Bluesummers' usefulness was somewhat reduced by that awkward container. He might have sent Legato, instead of Midvalley, on the current errand...

Or perhaps not. Legato hated humans almost as much as he himself did. He could not always be relied upon, on those rare occasions when finesse was needed.

Knives resisted the urge to betray an emotion as he considered how much Legato, a traitor to his own kind, disgusted him. How excessively human the man was!

If Vash had not interrupted, Knives would have killed Legato. His rage over the man's misbegotten plans had briefly taken control. He had reacted impulsively, instead of acting rationally. He knew it, though he would never admit it to any other than himself. Vash, who sometimes functioned like the other half of himself, had stopped him before he had quite killed the audacious slave. Neither he nor Vash was complete without the other, just as it had always been. Yet Legato, a mere human, had actually dared to consider trying...

Knives quickly wrenched his thoughts away from the reason _why_ he had nearly killed that slave, lest he immediately finish what he had begun.

Legato was still useful, for now. When that changed...

One corner of his mouth quirked slightly upward: a tiny movement, barely felt. It was highly unlikely that any of the attending slaves would notice. Zazie might, but even it could not begin to understand.

"Have you or Chapel found anything useful yet?" Knives asked, controlling his voice to make it sound as if he were bored.

"No, Master," Legato said, his voice infinitely respectful. "Chapel continues to pursue rumors of Vash, though none have yet proven true. Thus far, all he has accomplished is eliminating false leads."

"Hmph," Knives said.

Yet, as frustrated as he felt by his brother's disappearance, he also felt triumphant. Trust a Plant to conceal himself so well that no mere human could find him! Even one who had been surgically enhanced by the Eye of Michael could not match Vash's intelligence, nor exceed his speed.

Knives felt confident that he was smarter even than his brother.

"What was it you wished from us?" Midvalley said respectfully.

Midvalley didn't fawn over him in the manner Legato sometimes did. At times, that was refreshing. Other times, it was annoying. Knives was undecided about which effect the horn-player's calm voice had at the moment.

Zazie simply waited silently, staring through the altered eyes of its host.

"Didn't Chapel report previously that my little brother had allowed two human girls to travel with him?" Knives asked.

"Yes," Legato said.

"And they have been watched, since he disappeared?"

"Of course. Both are currently living in the city of December."

"Bring one," Knives commanded. "I have questions."

"Shall we use a shuttle, to bring her more swiftly to you?" Midvalley asked, with respect dominant in his smooth voice.

Knives was mildly surprised that something so obvious would need to be asked. But then, he reminded himself, he was dealing with _vastly_ inferior beings.

He simply nodded, not wishing to dignify such an inquiry with any further response.

"As you wish, Master," Legato said. He gave the impression of bowing, even though the rigid case in which he was cocooned held his body immobile.

Knives gestured for them to leave, and all three quickly departed.

Freed, for the moment, from the encumbrance of their unwelcome presence, Knives rose and resumed his interrupted pacing. He must prepare himself to deal with a human without killing her. That interaction was likely to tax the limits of his patience.

He would learn no answers if she were dead.

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* _based on Knives' words to Vash in the "Loss" chapter of the manga (Trigun Maximum Omnibus 2, page 292)_


	2. Shopping

_**Note**_ _: I do not own Vash "the Stampede," Millions Knives, Legato Bluesummers, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Zazie the Beast, Milly Thompson, Meryl Stryfe, etc.: they all belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow._

 _ **Spoiler alert**_ _: If you have not seen or read at least enough of Trigun to know what happened to the fifth moon. The events in this tale would occur slightly before Vash reappeared / was pried loose from where he'd been hiding for slightly over two years, following the Fifth Moon incident._

 _Most details (including calendar dates) lean more toward manga than anime._

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 **Parasites, Plots and Plans**

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 **Chapter 2:** **Shopping**

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 _Star year 112, month 12 day 20, mid-afternoon_

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The holiday shopping season was in full swing. The noise, the colors, the bustle, the decorations, the parties... each day seemed to race by in a whirlwind of activity.

That activity was more welcome than she cared to admit, even to herself. It left her almost no time for thinking.

She had begun pestering her boss, from the first day of the holiday shopping season, for some paid time off. He had finally (if grudgingly) granted her permission today.

Since it was clearly the best opportunity she would get, Meryl dove into the last of her holiday shopping. She hurried through stores in a flurry of activity that would have made almost anyone else feel dizzy. It was so much easier to shop at an hour when "every body and his uncle and his dog" were not also trying to squeeze in their own purchases outside of standard working hours! It was still crowded, but not so badly over-crowded that one of her small stature risked being trampled to death.

She recorded the progress of her shopping by marking names or items off her checklist. That checklist was nearly completed. She had a small gift, or gift certificate, for each of her co-workers. For Milly, she'd purchased something a little nicer. Two years ago, they were thrown together while following that broom-headed idiot. Ever since then, Milly had been generous with gifts at the holidays and at her birthday. So it seemed only fair, to Meryl's internal sense of justice, that she buy her tall co-worker something a little more than the others would receive.

That ... doughnut-eating blond disaster ... meeting him was only supposed to be part of her job. He was merely an insurance risk. She had handled other risks efficiently, and without ever wavering in her professionalism. But that man...

No. She was _not_ going to think about him. Not again! She'd done entirely too much of that, during the last two years, ever since he vanished.

The last time she'd seen him, he was asleep recovering from significant wounds. He'd abruptly awakened and pushed past her - even ignoring it when she slapped him - to run out the door. His only explanation was that she and Milly were in danger, and they ought to get out of town. He was worried that Juneora Rock might be destroyed as July had been.

She still wasn't sure why she'd stood there and let him go. Her best guess, then as now, was that it had been the first time he had spoken her name.

Milly had encouraged her to leave, and some variety of explosion had followed. Then a beam of light had gone up and made that huge crater in the moon.

She'd gone back, and searched amid the rubble. She'd found her suitcase, and Milly's, where their room had been. She'd found Vash's tattered red coat... he hadn't been wearing it when he charged out the door.

Of the so-called "Humanoid Typhoon" there had been no sign.

He was probably dead. There was absolutely no sense in being so sentimental about someone she barely knew. It was especially silly two years after he was gone.

But, by all that's holy, how she missed him!

No. Thinking about it would not help. Focus on the shopping.

She double-checked her list, and headed toward a shop with men's items. She still needed to get something special for her father. Suddenly, the scent of holiday foods filled her nostrils. She turned aside to a restaurant beside the men's store.

It was nearly halfway to dinnertime, and she'd skipped lunch. She'd forgotten to be hungry, while shopping, until she smelled the food.

Meryl walked in and sat at the first empty booth she saw. She began the process of carefully distributing all of her various shopping bags onto the seat between herself and the wall. She wanted each bag where it was unlikely to be snatched, yet where she didn't need to have her arms through all of those carrying-handles. Smaller bags were slipped into larger ones, and each carefully set where nothing would be likely to get crushed.

She had barely finished disentangling herself from her bags when she sensed movement near her table. Thinking the waiter had come, she said hastily, "I haven't looked at the menu yet."

"Neither have I," said a smooth masculine voice.

Surprised, she looked up to see a dark-haired man in a light-colored suit. She noticed a moderately large case in one of his hands.

"May I join you, miss?" he said, smiling. "There is a shortage of tables."

Glancing around, she saw that he was not exaggerating. In fact, enough people had come in behind her that she couldn't see any other places to sit anywhere else in the restaurant.

Meryl suppressed an urge to sigh, and nodded instead.

The last thing she needed right now was a strange man with a winning smile. Men were the bane of her existence!

He took the seat across from hers, after carefully placing the case between himself and the wall. He was sensibly protecting his valuables just as she had done with her purchases.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm lucky to have found such a pretty companion in this crowd."

"Flatterer," she said, trying to sound displeased. "May I ask what's in the case?"

"I'm a musician," he replied, smiling. "A saxophonist."

"Will you be playing somewhere this evening?" she asked.

"Not that I know of," he said pleasantly.

"Oh," she said, mildly disappointed, and opened her menu.

She could see that he opened his menu, also, as she perused hers. When she noticed that the special of the day was one of her favorite holiday dishes, she decided she would treat herself to that. She closed her menu and set it aside, and then looked around the restaurant and past its open wall into the mall.

She didn't want to appear too attentive to her chance companion. She was in no mood for masculine foolishness. She simply wanted to eat, finish her shopping, and get home so that she could begin the process of gift-wrapping.

"I'm new to this town," he said. "Do you come here often? Can you recommend anything on this menu?"

Meryl had begun to bristle at the "I'm new" and "Do you come here often," since those were notorious openings for pick-up lines. She'd heard more than a lifetime's worth of those, already. She had no desire to hear any more of them. However, she relaxed when he asked for suggestions on the menu.

"Today's 'special of the day' has been good, any time I've had it," Meryl said. "That's what I'll be ordering this time, too."

She saw his dark eyes move over the menu, as if reading the recommended offering. Then he nodded.

"I'll give it a try," he said, with another winning smile.

Was he a little _too_ interested in her, or was she not giving herself enough credit?

It didn't matter. He was a man, the last thing she wanted in her life right now. Men were nothing but nuisances! She avoided looking at him.

She noticed, even though she tried not to, that he kept staring at her as if he liked what he saw. Those stares made her mildly uncomfortable, even without the fact that she currently had zero use for a man. Oh, the attention was somewhat pleasant, but he was a complete stranger. She didn't know anything about him, except that apparently he was a musician. She didn't feel comfortable saying or doing anything that might appear to encourage him in a romantic direction, such as looking back too much. As a result, she had only a vague impression of his face instead of learning it thoroughly.

The waiter arrived, and asked whether to make one ticket or two.

"Two," Meryl said.

"One," her companion said smoothly. "After all, you have granted me permission to enjoy the pleasure of sitting here with you. The least I can do is pay for your lunch."

When not traveling and receiving compensation for traveling expenses, the Bernardelli checks were lean enough that a free meal at a decent restaurant was welcome. But she'd only just met this guy, and she didn't want him (or herself) getting any ideas...

"I... ah..." she blurted out, still mildly indecisive.

She carefully stared down at the tabletop, but she still saw his smile through her lashes. That smile alone would probably qualify him as handsome. He had the added advantage of not being a certain broom-headed idiot, who had vanished and might possibly be dead.

She still didn't want to think about that.

"Please," he said. "I insist."

"Well... then thank you, I guess," she said. She felt heat in her cheeks, so she quickly turned to the waiter and made her order.

The meal seemed to pass both quickly and slowly. The man was urbane, very gracious and polished in everything he said or did. Yet, somehow, introductions never quite happened.

He insisted on seeing the dessert menu, and buying something for her. She said she'd like a banana sundae, and then excused herself to go to the ladies' room.

She walked in and looked at herself in the mirror. Oh gracious, her hair was a sight! She quickly smoothed it, as best she could with hands and tap water. Had he been staring at her hair, instead of her face? But if so, why had he looked admiring instead of amused?

Or had she been too uncomfortable and misinterpreted his attitude?

Suddenly, she took a deep breath and stared her reflection straight in the eye.

'Meryl,' she silently told herself, 'stop it right this instant. You _know_ you have bad luck with men. Don't even think about starting something with this guy. Just stop. It's not a good time. You haven't even exchanged names! Say farewell to him when you finish your sundae, and let that be the last you think of him.'

She stared down her reflection until she felt satisfied that the decision was made, and no part of her was resisting. She nodded to her reflection, and then returned to the booth.

"Welcome back, pretty lady," he said.

"Thank you," she said, inwardly reminding herself of the decision she'd made while in the ladies' room. Looking at the table, to avoid looking at him, she said, "I see that our desserts have arrived."

"Yes, they have," he said. "I have also taken the liberty of ordering drinks. I hope you enjoy white wine?"

"Why?" Meryl asked, glancing quickly toward, and then away from, his face.

"To celebrate the day," he said, "or to celebrate our meeting. Or, perhaps, to celebrate the holidays."

"To celebrate the holidays," she said firmly. "I'll drink to that."

"To the holidays it is, then," he said, and smiled again.

She ate her banana sundae quickly, still avoiding looking at him. As she took the last few bites, she began to feel oddly overheated and slightly dizzy.

It was summer, on the southern hemisphere of a desert world. Was the restaurant's air conditioning inadequate to offset the heat of so many bodies in such a small place?

'It must be nerves,' she told herself silently. 'This guy is _almost_ getting to me. I need to finish up, and get home before this restaurant - or this mall - gets even more crowded.'

She suddenly realized that her head was drooping, so she shook it.

"Sorry," she said sluggishly. "I think I should have had a coffee instead... I should go."

"Please do not be in any hurry to leave me," he said. He sounded concerned.

"No, I really should go..." Meryl began, but then her eyelids drifted shut.

She was dimly aware of tipping over, and of feeling strong arms catch her as she fell.

After that... nothing.


	3. Sleepless

_**Note**_ _: I do not own Vash "the Stampede," Millions Knives, Legato Bluesummers, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Zazie the Beast, Milly Thompson, Meryl Stryfe, etc.: they all belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow._

 _ **Spoiler alert**_ _: This chapter contains vague references to the cause of the philosophical separation between the Plant twins. Also references to what happened to the fifth moon. The events in this tale would occur slightly before Vash reappeared / was pried loose from where he'd been hiding for slightly over two years, following the Fifth Moon incident._

 _Most details (including calendar dates) lean more toward manga than anime._

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 **Parasites, Plots and Plans**

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 **Chapter 3: Sleepless**

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 _2521 AD (or Star year 112), month 12 day 20, about an hour before midnight_

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He and his twin brother were looking through the computer files. They were reading details about the sleeping people... again. It was one of their favorite pastimes, when Rem was off tending to her duties elsewhere in the ship. They had been reading through the database nearly all year, yet they had only read a fraction of the files.

Both were enjoying themselves. Each was glad to have the other's companionship. Both were fascinated to learn about every sleeping person. Who slept in that cylinder? Why had that individual joined the expedition? Most of the answers were there, in the computer's database. They only needed to find them.

"You never get tired of this, do you?"

"Well, neither do you."

They smiled at each other.

He tensed, suddenly aware that he must be dreaming. He knew, all too well, what was coming. The indescribably intense pain... he did _not_ want to see the beginning of it again.

He wanted to shout, "No, stop! Don't keep looking - we're not ready for what we will find..."

But he was helpless to alter the course of the dream, just as he was helpless to change the history it depicted. He was compelled to watch as the tragedy began to replay itself in his mind ... as it had done previously on numerous other nights.

"I wonder what they're dreaming?"

"Aren't their brain waves stopped?"

In those days, he and his brother had been very close friends. Sometimes, they almost felt like two halves which made a single, complete whole.

Through their psychic connection, each could sense the other's living presence at all times. Physical distance made no difference: they were always together, always in harmony. If they chose, they could transmit thoughts to each other, or even share emotions. Each felt encouraged and strengthened by his awareness of the other.

Until they were torn apart.

His emotions began catching up to his intellectual awareness. He was merely dreaming of happier times, not living in them. Those days were gone, forever.

The terrible aching emptiness, where his brother's presence _should_ be, returned. The excruciating pain of that loss fully awakened inside of him, again. His soul began to writhe in agony. Reflexively, he suppressed his pain enough that it would neither broadcast nor leak.

The pain was not gone, nor significantly diminished. It was simply prevented from reaching others.

It was all he could do, while still trapped in the dream. He could feel tears gathering in his eyes, but he was not yet able to awaken himself.

"Say, Vash... do you think we can become friends with them?"

"Yes... I think we'll have to put in a lot of effort, though."

They had not been ready for what they found. That knowledge had nearly destroyed both of them. It was still damaging his brother.

"We can work through a few little differences. If we just talk to each other, we can come to understand one another. Because... there's no difference between human hearts and ours. Right, Vash?"

"Uh huh."

"I just can't wait, Vash!"

"Yeah, me neither."

He began to resist more strongly, in both body and mind. He did _not_ wish to experience those events again.

No... no... _no_... NO... _**NO**_ _!_

...

He was awake, sitting bolt upright in his bed. His eyes were tightly shut, yet tears still found their way past his eyelids and down his cheeks. He was drenched with sweat and breathing heavily, because of his struggle to awaken.

His reward was only pain. He was separated from his brother, perhaps forever.

He still loved his brother. Both the child he had been, and the broken man he had become. He wanted so badly for his brother to see more clearly, and to heal. If that happened, then perhaps, eventually, their former close friendship might be restored.

Even if they could never be close again, he still wished for his brother's healing.

His brother was seldom far from his thoughts. His twin's absence was a constant emotional pain: an unhealed wound. The various reasons why his brother was parted from him marched across his thoughts, ignoring his efforts to silence them. Those reasons hurt as badly as - if not worse than - the separation itself.

He could not allow those pains to have their way with him. If he yielded to the pain, he would collapse on the floor. He might continue sobbing uncontrollably for hours. Allowing that to happen would accomplish nothing, except for waking others.

So he struggled to contain and control his pain, as he had done many times previously. His thoughts would not stop at his command, but instead continued onward relentlessly.

He was aware that he and his brother were in partial agreement regarding the problem. Humans were so ... imperfect. They seemed to have an inherently negative, selfish and violent nature. Few among them made any serious efforts to resist and overcome that negativity. Partly because of their selfishness, humans over-used Plants... causing premature deaths, and worse.

For about eighty years after the Great fall, he and his brother had traveled together. The subject of humans was often discussed and debated. They both saw the same problems. In that, they were agreed. Awareness of the problems within human nature was not what had driven them apart.

They were divided by vastly different ideas regarding how best to attempt solving those problems.

His eyes opened of their own accord, allowing fresh tears to flow down his face. He leaned back, and over onto one elbow. He half-lay, half-sat, facing the bedroom window. Through that window, the fifth moon with its new crater - frequently described as a hole - loomed large in the sky.

Vash lay the rest of the way down, and rolled over, turning away from that window. He wrestled briefly with the entangling blankets and the sweat-soaked sheets. Then, sighing and shaking his head, he pushed the bedding aside and sat up.

He rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

He sat in the moonlit room, alone and desolate. Tears streamed unchecked down his face and hands. He continued struggling to control himself, and to avoid sobbing loudly.

The slightly reddish moonlight poured through the window as if it didn't care.

'Of _course_ it doesn't care,' he instantly rebuked himself. 'It isn't alive.'

He felt his mouth form a partial smile, as he inwardly mocked his own absurdity.

The fifth moon had always shone with a slightly reddish cast. Since that huge crater appeared, however, the moon's reddish cast felt as if it were bloody instead of merely red. He knew it was irrational: an emotional reaction of his own guilty conscience. Try as he might, though, he could not completely banish the idea.

He still could not remember most of what had happened on that day, two years ago. After he confronted Knives at Juneora Rock, there was a gap in his memory. Brief, chaotic images, and a sick feeling inside, were all he could recall. The hole in the moon plainly showed that something significant must have happened.

Since that day, the hair on the sides and back of his head was black instead of blond. He knew that hair color change meant his supply of Plant energy was running low. If the last of his inherent Plant energy were spent, he would die.

Vash straightened up enough glance over his shoulder and look out the window. The fifth moon still hovered in the sky, nearly filling the window. It shone like a baleful eye, glaring at him and condemning him.

He turned his face away from the window, again.

He stood and began to pace around the small room, carefully avoiding the creaky places in the flooring. The two who had kindly taken him in, and treated him like family, were light sleepers. He did not wish to make so much noise that his own sleeplessness also become theirs.

Tears continued forming in his eyes, and spilling out onto his face.

Knives... The idea of his twin brother, parted by distance in both body and mind, was a pain so intense it was nearly physical. His thoughts returned to prior discussions against his will. He succeeded in wrenching his thoughts away from replaying those memories, but the results echoed through his mind and soul.

He and Knives had agreed about most of the problems with human behavior. Their disagreement regarding how to _solve_ those problems was what had driven them apart.

Knives wished to destroy all humans, thus eliminating the problems.

Vash knew that his brother was operating from flawed logic. Knives' plans to destroy all humans assumed there was nothing worth saving. In this, he believed his brother was mistaken. There was music, art, poetry, literature, laughter, love, and kindness. Those things, at least, seemed worth saving.

If the humans who created and enjoyed those things were all gone, more would be lost than merely their lives. All the future music, art, and literature, which they - and future generations - could have created, would also be lost.

Vash could draw after a fashion. He could sing adequately. On occasion, he could even string together words in a manner that resembled poetry. However, he doubted he could ever learn to create music rivaling that of Bach, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Faure or so many others. He could appreciate what they had composed, but he doubted he could ever create anything of similar quality himself.

Knives' talents ran in different directions, too.

Knives had been a gentle, loving, idealistic child. He used to be joyful, excited and hopeful. Sadly, those qualities had all been eclipsed (and possibly even consumed) by his hatred for humanity.

Knives, who was intelligent and capable enough to accomplish countless goals, had instead limited himself to a single focus. He had grown cold and harsh, at times even toward other Plants. If Knives retained any compassion in his soul, he had hidden it extremely well.

How empty the universe would be, with no one to love! Had Knives' heart had truly grown as cold as it seemed? If it had, and he succeeded with his plans, then they would each remain painfully alone.

Vash's thoughts continued, as did his tears.

His brother had so much potential! Tragically, all of it was being spent on his vendetta against humanity. Vash mourned who Knives might have been, if only he had chosen creativity instead of destruction. His brother might have invented a power source that would provide humans with everything they needed - without using Plants anymore!

Vash had pondered attempting something like that, but he dared not linger long enough in any one place. There was not enough time to do the needful building, testing and research. He had to keep pressuring Knives, to limit his killing.

He had only hidden here successfully, for the last two years, by avoiding any action which might draw attention to himself. Even if this small town had the necessary facilities, which it clearly did not, any efforts to investigate alternate sources of power would quickly attract worldwide notice.

He wasn't prepared to face Knives again. At least, not yet.

He still had two concerns about Knives' genocidal intentions. Those concerns had both weighed upon his heart from the beginning.

One of those worries was Knives himself. He hoped that, one day, his brother would realize how badly mistaken he had been. When that day came, he worried that the guilt over the ones whom Knives had killed might completely destroy his mind. He didn't want that to happen to his brother.

The other worry was the harm to ordinary humans. They were all people, too.

If Knives had merely hated humans, and isolated himself from them, Vash would have no objection. He would have been disappointed, but he would not have protested. His brother could have grumbled about humanity all he pleased. In fact, Vash might have joined him in that... at least part of the time. Humans could be inane ad nauseam. Sometimes, he found such behavior amusing. Other times, their behavior disappointed or saddened him.

Unfortunately, Knives was not content to separate himself from humans or despise them. His desire for the eradication of humanity had become an obsession. Occasionally, he would leave his seclusion to slaughter every human within reach. He would destroy every soul in an entire town or city, and sometimes travel to another town and continue slaughtering people there.

Vash was deeply grieved by his brother's pattern of worsening behavior. He refused to follow that pattern. There had been several times, to his shame, when he found himself so angry that he _wanted_ to kill. He worried that if he ever allowed himself to cross that line, he would become just like his brother. So he would wrestle to rein in his anger, no matter how much it hurt. He was determined to control his anger, instead of letting it control him. He renewed his vow that he would not kill.

His tears were slowing enough that he could wipe them away. It was not the first time when anger and determination had slowed his tears. In a short while, they would stop... until the next time his pain slipped its leash.

Usually, if he investigated why a human (or a group of humans) behaved badly, he might discover there was a reason. Such reasons might not excuse their behavior, but... as with Knives ... those reasons might at least explain what motivated their misdeeds. If he could understand what drove them to behave as they did, he might be able to reason with them. Failing that, he might be able to appeal to their emotions.

Suddenly, his thoughts turned toward the others. A corner of his mouth quirked upward, and a smile slowly formed on his face. The others were people who reminded him of Rem. Ordinary humans who were gentle and kind, instead of negative and violent. People like Sheryl and Lina. People who kept his hopes for humanity alive.

That minority of humans who successfully resisted their negative nature ... their lives were evidence that it _could_ be conquered. With inspiration and assistance, more humans could also overcome those negative inclinations. Humanity could gradually turn itself around. If he set a good enough example, Humans might learn that mistreating others (including Plants) was irrational and unnecessary. They could learn to change their methods, even if their goals and personalities remained essentially the same.

Plants had been made by humans... perhaps even made _from_ humans. He had been in enough hospitals to know that his physical body looked (and mostly functioned) the same as any human male's. The bones, muscles, skin, and internal organs were all effectively the same.

Although Knives might not believe it anymore, humans could learn. They could grow. It was possible that Plants could help humans to rise above their inborn negative nature. Vash wanted to help that happen.

Such plans might seem less logical than Knives' ideas. Destruction would certainly be simpler... and easier. Helping the humans would be a much greater challenge than destroying them. His own hopeful plans hung by a slender thread, and were equally as likely to fail as to succeed. Vash's plan required that he would adapt to each situation, and to each individual's personality. His plan would also take longer, spanning generations.

Logical or not, attempting to save ordinary humans was the right thing to do. For conscience' sake, if for no other reason, Vash felt compelled to try.

Yet... there was another reason. Vash cared about humans almost as much as he cared about Plants. It had begun as a choice, to honor Rem's example. His choice had transformed, over time. A lifestyle of compassionate thoughts and behavior had grown into genuine caring. They were Rem's people! He still loved her, and she had loved them so much... Humans had become nearly as much his family as the other Plants were.

He had tried, repeatedly, to explain these things to Knives. But Knives would not listen. Apparently, he hadn't explained it well enough.

His mind continued racing. His thoughts were filled with memories, and ideas, which he had pondered and debated internally many times previously. The result was unchanged. He had far more questions than answers.

It took Vash several minutes to get most of his turbulent thoughts and emotions fully under control. As he achieved this, his tears faded away.

He sat on the bed and took a deep, relieved breath. He began to ponder whether he should attempt returning to sleep again immediately, or if he should first get himself a snack to help settle his stomach.

Then he sat stiffly, and tipped his head slightly in a listening position.

He sensed, distantly, the echoes of his brother's emotions. It resembled auditory echoes of a voice coming from a room at the end of a very long hallway. Details were unclear, but the sense of purpose was readily identifiable.

Vash felt as if his heart sank below the floor. He worried about what Knives was planning. It must be significant, to cause his brother's emotion to be detectable at such a distance. Whatever Knives had in mind, it could not be good for humans.

Unfortunately, Vash dared not leave hiding. His stomach lurched, as he remembered how control of his own body had been taken away from him. If Knives could do that once, causing the energies in Vash's body to fire like a weapon, then he could do it again. If it happened again, more people might be harmed... and more of his hair would go black.

Vash did not want to die destroying the very people he'd dedicated his life to helping.

If Knives couldn't find him, then at least he would not himself become the cause of more death and suffering.

He still worried about those young insurance girls. Had they gotten far enough away from Juneora rock in time? If they hadn't, if any harm had befallen them, it would be his fault. He should not have allowed them to follow him. It was too dangerous.

Vash loathed this need to sit quietly by, doing nothing, while people were harmed. But it was more dangerous to attract Knives' attention. So he dared not protect this town from the bandits who were gradually taking control.

He hoped that if he simply protected Sheryl and Lina, by keeping them out of harm's way, Knives would be unable to find him.

He sighed. If he hadn't promised to help his housemates with holiday shopping tomorrow, he might spend the night continuing to ponder these things instead of sleeping. However, he had promised, so he needed to rest. He couldn't protect them - especially not by engineering convenient "accidents" - if he was half-asleep on his feet.

Vash decided he needed a snack. He needed the distraction, to help him sleep again. Thankfully, the ladies who had taken him in were good at cooking!

He would think on these weighty matters again, another time.

.

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 **Note** : _The conversations between the young Plant Twins, remembered in a dream at the beginning of this chapter, come from the official translation of the manga. Their words are canon._


	4. Interview

_**Note**_ _: I do not own Vash "the Stampede," Millions Knives, Legato Bluesummers, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Zazie the Beast, Milly Thompson, Meryl Stryfe, etc.: they all belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow._

 _ **Spoiler alert**_ _: If you have not seen or read at least enough of Trigun to know what happened to the fifth moon. The events in this tale would occur slightly before Vash reappeared / was pried loose from where he'd been hiding for slightly over two years, following the Fifth Moon incident._

 _Most details (including calendar dates) lean more toward manga than anime._

.

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 **Parasites, Plots and Plans**

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 **Chapter 4:** **Interview**

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 _2521 AD, month 12 day 20, about an hour before midnight_

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Knives awoke when he heard Legato's knock.

He quickly suffused himself with enough Plant energy to become fully awake. He pushed aside the fading dream with its memories of the past. He ran his fingers through his pale blond hair, setting it to rights.

"Master," Legato said through the door, with infinite respect and adoration plain in his voice.

Knives stood and moved away from the bench where he'd been sleeping, thoroughly disgusted by all humans. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Come," he said, sounding bored.

The door opened, and Legato's thrall brought him in.

"We have one of the females, as you requested, Master," Legato said.

Again, Legato gave the impression of bowing. It was almost as if the full-body case that contained him, ever since his neck was broken, was no hindrance to his movements.

"She is in the infirmary," Legato continued. "Midvalley drugged her. He thought that would be quieter and simpler than any other method of bringing her."

Knives merely looked at Legato.

"If it pleases you, I can deal with this unpleasantness for you, Master," Legato said eagerly.

That slave was always trying to imagine methods to please him. As if it were possible for any human to please him, except by their death!

"No," Knives said firmly, using his tone of voice as a rebuke.

He had spent many hours preparing himself. He didn't trust the humans to ask the correct questions, nor to correctly interpret her responses.

"As you wish, Master," Legato said, chastened. "If you will come this way...?"

He followed Legato to the room where a small dark-haired round-faced female lay on a hospital bed. An IV was attached to her arm. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was deep and even.

"Is this a child?" he said, surprised by her diminutive size. He tensed and opened his mouth to rebuke them, but Legato spoke first.

"No, Master," Legato said. "She is of age, although smaller than the average."

Knives frowned, noticing that her eyes remained closed.

"You knew I wished to question her, and yet you let her sleep?" Knives said in a dangerous tone.

"It was necessary to keep her quiet," Conrad said. "I am reducing the dosage now. She will be truthful, when she wakes, whether she wishes to or not. She will also be moderately uninhibited, as if drunk. She should awaken right... about... now."

As he finished speaking, the girl's eyelids began to flutter.

Knives shifted his position to express his impatience with them all, and waited the few seconds until her eyes opened fully. Her wide medium-grey eyes began to look around the room, until she saw him.

"Vash?" she said, astonished. "Where have you been? Milly's been so worried, she asks about you nearly every day. She wonders if you're alive, if someone's looking after you, if you're eating well..."

Of course. A small mind, such as this human possessed, could easily make such an error. He and his brother did share a strong physical resemblance. But they were not identical.

The small woman sat up, continuing to stare at him in amazement.

Conrad checked that her IV seemed unlikely to fall out, and then he backed away.

"You cut your hair? Well, I must say that it looks better than it did," she continued. "That broom-headed look wasn't very flattering. It's about time you changed it. With your hair like this, one could say you look handsome... or almost handsome, anyhow..."

Then her expression changed as her small fists clenched.

Midvalley moved swiftly to stand behind her, and take a hold of her arms. He held her securely, just above her elbows.

"You stupid broom-headed idiot!" she shouted, growing red in the face. "What were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all? Running off like that, so thoughtlessly... you're always trying to save everyone... Well, this may be news to you, but some people don't _want_ to be saved! You risk your life for _nothing_!"

She tried to swing a punch at him, but Midvalley pulled her arm back well before she completed the motion. She struggled, but her strength was no match for his.

Her gaze never wavered from Knives' face.

Knives reflexively took half a step backward. It was not from fear of this small angry human, but from surprise. She phrased the concepts differently from how he would have, but her words expressed ideas he had often held in his thoughts about his frustrating brother. He found himself staring into her small face, which was still contorted by anger, and showing his amazement.

How could a mere human speak words that echoed his own thoughts so closely? Why, the girl was almost... logical. Almost. She was still a mere human, and so limited in her capacity that she mistook him for Vash. Disgust drove him backward another half step before he stopped himself.

She was insulting a _Plant_. This mere human was _daring_ to insult a Plant! In fact, if not restrained, she might have hit him! Who did she think she was, to do such a thing?

"You should have come back sooner. Or, even if you weren't going to come see me before now, you should have at least written a letter!" she continued yelling, almost without pause, obviously unaware of his thoughts. "You're so rude! It's been two years, and never a word! And now, here you stand as big as life - as if nothing had happened? What's _wrong_ with you? You claim to care about others, but then you treat us like this?"

Knives frowned.

"Well?" she said, impertinently, "what do you have to say for yourself? You should have come to see us sooner! That's what real friends do! We've been watching for you, or for a letter... All your talk of love and peace - well, where's the love, Vash, huh? Where is it?"

"Silence!" Knives shouted, moving toward her until he loomed over her.

She abruptly fell silent, her eyes widening in surprise.

"You're different now," she said, very softly. It was almost a whimper.

He could easily kill her. Perhaps he should. He certainly _wanted_ to kill the audacious little pest! But... she seemed to expect that Vash would return to her, or at least communicate with her. She might be delusional, but she couldn't be effective as bait if she were already dead.

"Take her away," he said, turning on his heel to walk toward the door. "Continue watching her."

"Yes, Master," Legato said, "it will be done as you wish."

He felt Legato following him as he walked down the hall. He needed a release. Dealing with that small, nearly logical human had unsettled him. He didn't like that feeling.

The best solution was always to kill more humans. With his brother missing...

Some of her words suddenly inspired a plan. "You claim to care about others," she had said, and "You're always trying to save everyone."

Knives felt the corner of his mouth raise that infinitesimal amount which most humans could not detect. If humans went missing, in a manner that made the news, _that_ should draw his cowardly brother out of hiding! He would come out to protect the filthy parasites.

"Ready the shuttle," Knives said, "we're leaving. You will cause as many humans as you can handle to leave a town, and walk into the desert. I will kill them, and then use their blood to write my name somewhere obvious in the town..."

Knives saw Legato smile and nod as the slave continued listening to his plans.

Vash would not be "missing" much longer, Knives thought smugly.


	5. Tardy

_**Note**_ _: I do not own Vash "the Stampede," Millions Knives, Legato Bluesummers, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Zazie the Beast, Milly Thompson, Meryl Stryfe, etc.: they all belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow._

 _ **Spoiler alert**_ _: If you have not seen or read at least enough of Trigun to know what happened to the fifth moon. The events in this tale would occur slightly before Vash reappeared / was pried loose from where he'd been hiding for slightly over two years, following the Fifth Moon incident._

 _Most details (including calendar dates) lean more toward manga than anime._

.

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 **Parasites, Plots and Plans**

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 **Chapter 5:** **Tardy**

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 _Star year 112, month 12 day 21, morning_

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"Sempai?" Milly said, sounding concerned.

Meryl awoke groggily, looking up into her junior co-worker's face. The light coming in from the windows hurt, so she quickly closed her eyes again.

"Milly?" she said, surprised, scrunching her eyes tightly shut to keep out that too-bright daylight. "What are you doing here?"

"You're late for work," Milly explained, "and the boss said you hadn't called in. That's not like you. He said I could come and check on you. I know where you hide your spare house key, in your desk at the office."

"Late for work?" Meryl sputtered, reflexively opening her eyes again. "What time is it?"

She looked toward a clock.

"9:14 am," Milly said, verifying what the clock showed her.

"Oh no!" Meryl said, sitting up and throwing off the blanket. "I'm over an hour late!"

Moving that quickly was a mistake. It caused her head to throb and spin. She closed her eyes, bowed her head and rubbed at her temples until the worst of it receded. She raised her head more slowly, and then looked around the room. She felt odd, sleepier than she ought to be.

Hold on... Why was she on the couch in her living room, wearing yesterday's clothes, with shopping bags everywhere? Never mind, she'd figure that out while she got dressed.

"Give me a few, to clean up," Meryl said, "and then we can go to the office. Maybe grab a coffee on the way in."

"Okay," Milly said cheerfully.

Meryl saw a number of empty bottles lying around as she staggered toward her bedroom. She felt like she had the worst hangover of her life, and was perhaps still partly drunk. She went to her closet, and pulled out standard office attire. Then she staggered to the bathroom, and began washing up.

What had happened? Her recollections of the prior day were hazy, and stopped at the end of her late lunch. She'd been shopping, and then had to share the booth with a strange man because of a shortage of seats. He'd bought her a glass of wine, with dessert.

If he'd drugged her wine, why wasn't she waking up in a more compromising position? She was in her own home, and apparently was still fully clothed. Her clothing was not sufficiently disarrayed to suggest it had been put back on by someone else. Enough bags were on the floor in her living room to account for all of her purchases. And then there were all the empty beer bottles around her house.

Had she gotten depressed over the whole idea of men, or only about Vash? Had she drunk herself to sleep? Had she been _that_ badly sentimental last night? If she had been, she would _not_ continue in that trend, she decided firmly. Vash was gone, probably dead. If he were still alive, he'd not made any effort to contact her.

She continued trying to sort out her memories as she automatically performed the minimum tasks necessary associated with washing and dressing.

Suddenly she remembered a dream...

Vash. She'd dreamed about Vash. Oh, it wasn't the first time, but usually dreams about Vash went _very_ differently. No hospital room in those dreams, for example. She turned her thoughts aside from her prior dreams as she felt heat in her face. No, it wouldn't do to blush in front of Milly. Then the big oaf might suspect it had something to do with Vash.

Milly might not be the brightest candle on the cake, but she could be awkwardly perceptive at times.

Vash had been different in her dream last night. There had been a complete personality change. He'd been cold, distant, and he'd been sporting a _much_ better haircut. Although, as she thought about it, she realized that the most different thing about him was his eyes... they were even colder than his facial expression or his posture.

Come to think of it, his eyes were a different shade of blue, too. Instead of a greenish blue, those eyes had been a blue that was more a middle-of-the-road blue or perhaps even a slightly purplish blue. That different eye color meant it could not have been Vash in her dream. Her mind must have invented a man similar to Vash in appearance, but with an entirely different personality.

It was past time for her to move on with her life. Vash had only been a job assignment, anyway - and a highly frustrating one. If she thought about it correctly, it was a relief to be rid of him! Thankfully, Vash wasn't her job any more. She shouldn't allow herself to think about him so much that ideas of him would intrude into her dreams. Enough was enough!

She stared at her own reflection for a heartbeat or two, and then took a deep breath.

"It was only a dream," she told her reflected self. "He's gone - forget him, even if he was the handsomest man you're ever likely to see. There are much more important things to think of today, including how I will persuade the boss not to fire me..."

Seeing that her reflection was adequately presentable, she left the bathroom and returned to the living room. She looked up at her tall co-worker who stood near the door, waiting patiently.

"Okay, Milly," she said firmly, "Let's get out of here."


End file.
